A primer on understanding the Skyrim stream and the weirdness involved.
Last night, the elders of Britain failed their children. The United Kingdom's vote to leave the European Union is already depressing their economy and caused the resignation of Prime Minister David Cameron who, while not an especially forward-thinking politician, stands to be replaced by someone worse. Scotland is considering a second referendum for independence. I'm heading to Scotland in just over two weeks for my first ever vacation, so I may even get to see some of the slide toward a V for Vendetta style shitty future first hand.
I say the elders of Britain failed because they did. The referendum vote was easily split along lines of age. It's easy to point fingers at youth for not voting in a system that routinely disenfranchises them, or to point out that age and experience can lead people to vote differently than youth. But if we want to trade on the wisdom and commitment of elders, then it's necessary to acknowledge the responsibility of those elders to know better and vote in measures that will make the future better, not worse. To acknowledge that we live in the fastest century humankind has ever had, and that there may be issues that youth are
Total words: 7003
Favourite turn of phrase: "Convicts were loud as a rule. In a place where they were forgotten and abandoned, they struggled for significance as anyone would."
Lessons Learned: Sure I'll open Facebook. And Youtube. Just ten minutes and then I'll sprint--Ooh, Alex Boye. Fuck. I'm thinking about the Poetry Slam tomorrow.
Conclusions: Keep writing. Eschew distractions, not just social media, but being nervous about things. Also, air conditioning is not a thing anymore, and it is fucking sweltering in here.
Day 4 was D&D night, which means no writing happened.
Total Word Count: 6352
Favourite turn of phrase: "What could frighten an immortal more than his irrelevance?"
Lessons Learned: The tone is shifting dramatically. It's still not entirely clear to anyone not me what this is about, but it's vastly more intelligible than Ulysses, so there's that. Jails are hard to write. I don't know much about them, but don't feel compelled to learn. This is a world with wizards, the prison system works how I say it does.
Conclusion: Keep writing. Something is coming. It's waiting to happen, and I want to write the rise of the devil, even if he isn't the villain. Also also, I still need to get to the pop star.
Total words: 4634
Time spent writing: 1 hour, 45 minutes.
Favourite line: No one was ready to know that creatures of myth and legend walked among them. That some of them hunted humanity, for food or for sport. No one was ready to be that afraid of the dark.
Lessons Learned: This gets easier, unsurprisingly. Characters do start to form. Exploring history is good, even if it has to happen in the middle of a chapter. It builds context and creates an opportunity for callbacks. Also, I definitely started this story in the middle.
Conclusions: Keep writing. Some of this may not be garbage. Also, you can write two thousand words in under two hours, and it makes you happy.
Time spent writing: 45 minutes
Favourite sentence: Ordinary people never understood. They only saw the power, and not the price. All of the fire, but none of the risk.
Lessons learned: Swing dancing makes for very tired writing. Introducing magical realism is hard. Still have no idea how people work.
Conclusions: Keep writing. Consider the urge to write like Doc Brown, going back to add more meat to past paragraphs instead of just forging ahead to new ones.
Day 1 Log!
Time Spent Writing: Three hours.
Terms invented: thrash banjo
Favourite Phrase: "getting drunker than a Toronto mayor"
Lessons learned: I do not give fucks where anything happens. This thing reads like a play. I do not, at all, understand human beings or their behaviour.
I should keep writing, but consider withdrawing from humanity for fear that they may discover I am not one of them. Also, I do not deserve to read books, nor to claim that I understand how they work in the slightest.
It's Canadian Thanksgiving, which means I'm in a whole other city visiting family and dogs and things. It's 1am and there's a dog who refuses to go to bed as long as one other person in the house is awake. I'm writing and getting this week's videos ready, and thinking about how my family is weird.
It's not that strange, my understanding is that everyone's family has its quirks and oddities. Mine is that we sit quietly in rooms together. Hours can go by without anyone doing more than making polite conversation, whether in the house, over dinner, or in the car. A few sentences are exchanged, and then we go back to what we're doing. My aunt putters on her ipad, my cousin relaxing in her chair, my mum busying herself with knitting while a History Channel show about aliens blares in the background. I'm attached to my laptop of course, writing or playing games or doing whatever it is that I do on this thing.
It's quiet, apart from the aforementioned aliens show. Even the dog is quiet. The cat is a ghost. Even the house holds its peace. It's an easy silence. We're interested in different things, is all. four
Down with the sickness this weekend, updating websites I haven't touched in far too long. I blame Rachel and Miles, who have haunted me all weekend. I even missed the poetry slam, on account of being Patient Zero for the next great epidemic. Despite all my sleeping, I made a thing. This isn't it, but it turns out pens bleed if you use them on napkins, and sometimes they make cool shapes.
Writing feels good. Making things feels better. I'd rather do that than almost anything. Except Skyrim.